


and the one time he didn't

by taakovitz (orphan_account)



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: 4+1, F/M, M/M, Present Tense, Tragedy, and its only partially present tense which is dumb, but - Freeform, i never write in present tense, i'm going to hell anyway, its okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 14:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13859586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/taakovitz
Summary: Four times Romeo said goodbye, and one time he didn't.





	and the one time he didn't

**I.**

Mercutio's arm is swung around his, and Benvolio's arm around his other. The three of them are only children, lying on the ground, eyes closed as the gentle summer night's wind whistles through grass, cooling their faces, sweaty and red from running after Mercutio taunted little Tybalt. Of course, they all laugh, Mercutio's head against his shoulder. It was exhilarating, even if it were only quick-to-anger young Tybalt who chased after them. So exhilarating that they kept running long after Tybalt gave up, Mercutio hollering above the wind and waving his arms, and Benvolio coming last, panting as he fell back into the grass next to his friend and his cousin. 

The grass stirs behind them, and Romeo jumps, expecting it to be an angry Tybalt, or perhaps another Capulet coming for revenge in his stead. But he sees only Valentine, Mercutio's brother, who was much quieter and less outgoing than he. He'd come to bring Mercutio home, and of course, he didn't want to go, and Benvolio and Romeo didn't want him to leave. But he gives in, just this once. Thankfully. He gets to his feet, brushing bits of grass and dirt off of his clothing, beginning to walk away with Valentine. As the wind buffets his long dark hair, he stops, turns and grins, waving at his friends, and Romeo stands to call back, his cousin at his side. "Goodbye, Mercutio!"

* * *

**II.**

The ceiling arched over their heads, intricate gold linings, and patterns across the dark crimson walls. The walls were lined with tapestries showing the Capulet crest and portraits of Lord and Lady Capulet, their children, and their cousins. He looks around in awe until he feels a pull on his sleeve. Benvolio smiles at him behind his blue feathered mask, pulling his cousin further into the Capulet house by his arm. The room is alive with music and chatter, and for once, the Capulets don't seem scary. Lady Capulet sits next to her husband, smiling with her hand in his, and beside them, Tybalt, whose face was still screwed into a permanent frown, being apparently scolded by Lord Capulet, just like he was when he was little. The visuals only made Romeo laugh; even a masquerade couldn't heighten poor Tybalt's spirits. Mercutio was there, too, though he'd already disappeared into somewhere that Romeo couldn't see. 

As they moved among the crowds, he did certainly _hear_ Mercutio, laughing and joking with a group of women before he moved again, coming close to his friends for just a moment to pat Romeo on the back as he reaches for a glass on the table. He grins and winks at Romeo, who laughs as masked Mercutio disappears once more into the crowd. As he looks around, his eyes catch someone else's, and for a moment, he can't look away. His previous woes were forgotten. His curiosity was too much; he had to go speak to her. And she lets him get over to her. She held her skirts in her hands as she walked, despite the fact that they weren't much too long, and when her hands were idle, they were crossed over her lap in the most delicate of fashions. He couldn't see her face unobscured, but her beauty shone from within. He steals a kiss or two, and they laugh together and love together, and then she's called away to speak to her mother.

Benvolio comes to fetch him, and he's suddenly acutely aware of the Cat's eyes burning into his back. The girl he loved so much from one simple meeting was the cousin of the King of Cats, daughter of the Capulets. He despaired, for a moment, but he would not let love escape him again. Not this time. 

"Goodbye, Juliet," he whispers before being whisked away in the crowd, enjoying the taste of his sweet Juliet's name on his lips.

* * *

**III. & IV.**

The passage of time either ticked by at an unbelievably petty pace or a pace that escaped Romeo's grasp, leaving something to be desired. A disorienting pace that left him uncertain of what day and hour it was. Usually, time didn't come to a complete stop.

And then it did. 

He couldn't quite tell what he was doing. He couldn't hear, and he could barely see, and some of him is thankful that his vision was dotted in black. Part of him wished that he would never be able to see again. He sees Mercutio's mouth open in a shout, and he feels himself scream as he turns, grabbing onto his friend before he falls to the hot stone street. He sees the fear strike across Tybalt Capulet's face and sees him strap his sword back to his hip with utmost haste. He watches brave Tybalt flee. 

He can feel the tears dripping down his cheeks, and he can feel Mercutio's fingers, wet with blood that was only his own, trying to wipe them away. Romeo holds his best friend close, watching red bleed into the soft purple and silver fabric of his clothes. Time begins to move again, albeit slowly, and he can hear Mercutio's voice. He only nods along like a fool, unsure what he was on about, his ears still ringing from shock. "--surgeon, boy," are the words that his ears finally catch, and he feels Benvolio pulling his dying best friend away from his grasp, giving Romeo an apologetic look. "Goodbye, Mercutio," Romeo whispers, his sweaty, shaking fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword as Tybalt reapproaches with a group of other Capulets, though he feels beyond numb. His body, his head, and his heart.

"And goodbye, Tybalt," he murmurs, his brow furrowing.

* * *

And the one time he didn't.

His poor Juliet lay dead, her eyes closed, hands folded neatly across her lap, the same way they were when she stood alive when they first met on that fateful night. Romeo was frantic, and before he knew it, his shaking hands held a small dark bottle, and his quivering mind told him to drink it. So he did.

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

He never imagined dying would take so long, and that it would take so much out of him. He couldn't move, nor could he speak, even if he wanted to. Juliet was dead, and so was Mercutio, and so was Tybalt, who would've been his relative in a better version of this tale that their families wove together. As he lay on the floor, the hanging cold seeping into his skin, he began to think that Mercutio was right. A plague on both of their houses would be well deserved. This feud was nonsense.

Maybe this would teach them a lesson, he thought bitterly, despite the hot tears forming in his eyes.

For a moment, horror washed over him. Benvolio would be left behind. After enduring the murder of their mutual best friend, he would have to deal with the loss of his dear cousin as well. And the tears came faster. Gentle Benvolio deserved none of this, and it was all Romeo's fault that this was what he was receiving.

_I am fortune's fool indeed._

His life unfolded before him as he stared up at Juliet's ceiling, the same red as the ballroom that seemed much harsher when his fingers were coated with the paint. Finally, calm washed over him once more. He saw all of the times he laughed with Mercutio. All of the times they played together. All of the times they teased each other, and the times they teased Tybalt, though now, those memories stung.

All of the times he cried over a girl. All of the times Mercutio held him, telling one of his 'classic' jokes to cheer him up (despite their poor taste, it always worked). All of the times Benvolio tried to convince him to do something more thought through, and how he never listened.

At least Mercutio and Juliet would be waiting there in the light to receive him. He could run his fingers through Juliet's hair again and press his lips to hers. He and Mercutio could jest and laugh and play again.

And hopefully, Benvolio would stay away for a long, long time.

Something in him wanted to laugh, something in him wanted to cry, and something in him wanted to be angry. Unfortunately, he didn't have the room or the strength for any of them.

So he sighed instead, his eyelids falling shut. And as he gave his final breath, something stirred on the bed above him, and he heard the beginning of an ear-splitting scream.


End file.
